There's nothing quite like finding a white hair the length of your hand, actively growing from the top of your scalp.

"Oh dear Lord Jesus," I tell to my bathroom reflection and God above. "How long have you let this exist?"

As I thoroughly sweep through my black roots to eliminate the glowing minorities (I sadly find three more), I can't help but think 'This is it'.

I'm an adult.

As I approach my 27th birthday, I'm fiercely aware how long I've avoided referring to myself as an adult. I'm a pretender, a fake, an imposter. I'll never be part of that world, I used to tell myself.

Never mind the engagement ring on my finger, the house I own, the mortgage I now pay and my genuine interest in getting a shower dome. None of that meant I was a real adult.

However, a 17cm long albino white was the last strand of confirmation.

I look at myself, clean-faced with my tired naked eyes and permanent dark circles concealer struggles to hide. Standing in my bathroom, I have a humbling and melancholic experience. A reminder of morality. An awareness of the change ahead. And while I lay my head to rest on the same mattress I've slept on for 10 years, in the same room I've lived in for 25+ years, I look to reassurance. So I try to let my last thoughts be positive enough to comfort me to a sound sleep.

"Well, I have a good reason to colour my hair again."

It's the only silver lining I've discovered, though I'm sure plenty more exist, just like the hidden silver strands growing from my head too.

I've decided wedding planning isn't like a walk in the park, nor is it a sprint. It's like a marathon. The Pinterest boards are opened. The date is set. The race is on.

Like in the first kilometre of any marathon race, the first few weeks of wedding planning feel good. You make charts, download "wedding planning lists" off Pinterest, and create endless dream boards, searching for everything from centrepieces to fairy lights. It's like you're running with that engagement adrenaline that your mind bursts with ideas and themes.

At some point, that excited buzz and energy begin to waiver. Reality is setting in. For me, it was month three. I was travelling quite a bit around the country for work so I would only be home on weekends. At the same time, D and I were trying to buy a new house, so our free time was spent talking mortgages and open homes. Wedding planning became the project I just couldn't make time for. And while we were blazè about the amount of time we had left - here we are, seven months in, with little accomplished because wedding planning dropped quickly down the priority list.

Then the further you get in, everything feels like a struggle because you're hitting your limit. In running, that's a physical limit. In wedding planning, it's the limited budget. Weddings are not cheap. And it's been difficult rationalising spending a large amount of money on "ourselves" for one day in our life. Sure, it's a big life event. But knowing that $5000 spent on catering could be $5000 fixing the house, or $5000 on an overseas holiday/honeymoon - it really puts your mind (and wallet) in place.

Like marathon running (well, "half-marathon" running in my experience), it's so easy to wish your way out of the race. There isn't a week that goes by that we joke about eloping. But while that cheap and easy way out is desirable, something about actually doing it doesn't seem satisfying. Like, if you were to just take the shortcut to the finish line, sign the papers and be done - it all means the same, but not celebrating the almost nine years we've put into this relationship seems a bit of a letdown. Not just for others either, but ourselves.

More than that, it's actually a privilege to be able to do this too. Naive 18-year-old me would have never expected to marry my high school ball date. We deserve a beautiful start to our next chapter. We essentially trained and worked for this moment.

For that reason, we can't allow ourselves to get discouraged. It's not easy, especially as the date looms closer and closer, and we're racing against time. It's testing, tiring, and sometimes choosing to go through this process annoys me. But we just have to press on, one step at a time. It will be all the more rewarding in the end.

This is just one of many negative comments spotted under the news announcement of Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern's baby.

Sure, be cynical. Question the fact that this is news. Because yes, the essence of this story is about a woman who did what thousands of other women did today: birth a child into this cold, unforgiving world. But the significance of this event is bigger than a woman and her newly born daughter.

Our Prime Minister was one of 17 or so women today who gave birth at Auckland City Hospital. A big moment in modern NZ history. Because in a time where women can still be looked down for choosing a career or choosing a family, or choosing to do both, well here is a world leader who is achieving everything she strives for: a child and career.

Let's not forget how it was mere months ago when a small-minded man with access to a television audience told middle-class NZ that he thought it was acceptable for an employer to ask a potential female candidate their future childbearing plans (he probably assumes that the boss in question is male too).

And while I can barely keep my daily schedule in check, let alone the future occupancy of my womb, it should never decide how effectively I can do my job or the way in which I will pursue my career.

Jacinda Ardern isn't doing anything new. Women are fantastic multi-taskers. They can be smart, savvy and brilliant contributors to the workforce and to families.

The difference in Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern is that all eyes are on her. And she's still not backing down on either motherhood or ministerial front.

That's what today's small-minded naysayers need: Proof a woman can run a country and run a home. That she can play two roles, and with the support of people around her, she can successfully achieve both. Everyone needs support in raising up a child. And should I ever accidentally cross that baby bridge myself, I want a society to accept my life choices and encourage my aspirations in no matter path a choose: career, children, or both.

And most importantly, we and our country's future women will be no lesser for it.

So no matter your political tendencies, let NZ talk about and celebrate a woman being both a mother and a world leader. Females are strong enough to do both, no matter what some people think.

Before I travelled to Europe, Germany has always been written into my mind as a cold, broken place. The centre of World War II, its country's history crosses over into New Zealand's past only in the name of war and conflict.

It probably didn't help that when we woke up in Berlin on a cold late October morning, the skies were a moody grey, and the temperature less than warm and friendly unlike the fresh and bright Amsterdam we were in the day before. In our tour group of forty, no one named Berlin as the city they were looking most forward to.

A section of the Berlin Wall still standing

It's hard to separate what the identity of Berlin is without bringing up the words of war. A city scattered with scaffolding and signs of construction, Berlin didn't feel old or new - just incomplete. Potholes covered many exteriors, bricks scarred and battered by bullets. Roads feature the scraps and markings of the old Berlin Wall, while plaques marked tunnels and their sympathies of years past. The city had seen much more than what was still visible today.

Through the walking tours, the monuments and museums we passed, I was drunk on the history of Berlin, yet sober in emotions. The stories of the city felt so detached from any humanity. How was it possible for people to accept these conditions of war, death and punishment? The feelings and thoughts left me emotionally drained, as grey and moody as the skies above.

Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Eastern Europe

But in the contrast, there was life in the signs of rebellion. Where there is brokenness and hurt, art comes alive.

One large section of the Berlin Wall that stands is labelled the 'East Side Gallery. It's covered in graffiti street art that gives them the space to celebrate freedom, and with that, the freedom of expression through art. At the time, the walls were protected and fenced, but it didn't stop some people wanting to leave a mark on the spare spaces unfenced and available.

East Side Gallery

Food is always a source of happiness, where beer halls of Berlin still remain full of excitement, large steins and many bratwurst sausages. And you can't go past the Ritter Chocolate shop that is a literal rainbow of sweets and life.

One of the happiest moments of the trip was when our Contiki group, chilled by our 'Cold War and Cold Drinks' walking tour, took to the bars for a drink or few. The first bar was a dud, as patrons played ping pong in a cold room, walls lined with blood covered spray paint, and wine handed in cheap glass tumblers. We eventually stumbled into an empty beer garden which we had all to ourselves. And when you have a bar all to yourselves, your Aussie and Kiwi pals bring out their partying ways. There was dancing, singing, and some Mr Brightside belting as we held our complimentary pretzel bread.

Trans. "The universe loves you and will help you" - East Side Gallery

The rest of the night was a blur, leaving the next day in the grey and moody rain once again. But we didn't leave with the shaded opinions of war and destruction we first arrived with. Berlin may seem like a cold and broken place, but in those broken parts are light and life just ready to take over. Amongst the art, the rebellion, and that one weird drinking bar where they played ping pong, the next generation of Berlin is bound to be filled with promise and life. And maybe then, 40 new tourists visiting Germany will have more to look forward to than what's broken, grey and moody.

In D's head, I assume our proposal that day was supposed to involve a beautiful summer's afternoon, walking along our favourite beach with ice creams, joking and laughing, until he dropped to one knee at our favourite spot. But after I refused to go to this first potential proposal location cause 'it was too hot and I'll get sunburnt', he came up with a backup plan. But it didn't take long till I unknowingly ruined his potential second opportunity, so there was nothing left but to ask the question where we stood - getting ready to go get Asian food for dinner.

I was a bit dumbfounded in the moment, caught completely off-guard by a completely unfamiliar question in a too-familiar unromantic location. But as he explained to me what his original plan for the day was, I struggled to process.

Instead of hearing the excited words of 'yes', he heard me through tears saying 'oh no, I ruined it!'

And so, that short brief summary of our story will be told forever for the rest of our lives. I've already told over and over again to numerous people every time someone asked the words 'How did it happen?'

At first, I was a little bit embarrassed about our story. You would have thought after eight years together, that 'one moment' would have been something a bit more spectacular than being handed an engagement ring while I planned our night excursion to get noodles. But, original tears aside, it then became funnier and funnier to tell. Here we were, trying to get food, with me forgetting things and we running late to eat as usual. If anything, the "one moment" was a very "us" moment.

But what's also nice about telling people my "how I ruined the proposal" story is that about eighty percent of people had their own "ruined" moments to share. Funny enough though, there was one common factor between most 'failed' proposal stories...the fiancee-to-be.

Most proposals which had gone awry appeared to have involved women saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, leaving a slightly deflated husband-to-be struggling and stumbling to save the romantic gesture. While men have a picture in mind about how they want things to go, women just like to be in control of what's going on, and clearly, we get suspicious when we find something out of place.

That's how we always seem to say the wrong thing - trying to make us do things we hadn't planned to do.

So if there's anything to learn from this, men: you can plan a proposal a million ways. But the biggest obstacle and threat to the perfect plan is not the ring, not the location, and not the words.

The Bridiaries: Chapter #1 -
Today is the day we finally announced our engagement on Facebook. After eight years together, we're telling the world (or at least the Internet) we're getting married.

The thing is, we actually got engaged over a month ago. We just didn't post anything about it. Instead, we told people in person.

In some ways, it's a relief to have it out on social media. But in others, I missed the delightful secret it was to the people I could tell.

In the world of social media, where emotions feel sterilised and stock standard through algorithms and binary, there's a missing joy of human interaction that, over the month we told our close friends and family face-to-face, I realised had truly missed.

I did worry that the delay in time telling people would lessen the impact or excitement, or even that people would get offended that I didn't say it any sooner. But no, there was still a genuine joy and disbelief that social media can't ever capture.

What I think I liked most about telling people in person was that each reaction was different. Not a copy-and-paste wave of 'Congratulations' *insert endless emojis here*. They were surprised, shocked, a couple of excited screams, and one that did get annoyed I took two hours into our meet-up to mention anything. But with each person, it definitely felt personal, unique, and reminded me why I really valued their friendship.

As the weeks went on and as I got used to the weight on my finger, D and I got a bit creative in the "telling" process. We'd think of new ways to drop "the ring" into the conversation, or seeing how long it would take for people to notice the new jewellery on my left hand. And for those who already knew, it was a game that they could quietly join in and watch, which I know they equally enjoyed being in on the 'secret'.

The one thing to take away from this month-long secret spilling is that there is so much value in being around people and communicating with them one-on-one and in person. It's almost ironic that social media is an excuse and a filter for our emotions that it can be disconnecting to relationships. Why talk with someone if you can just know what happens with a Facebook update?

The word is now out in the open, so I hope you join me in my bridal diaries as I begin a new chapter in my life - engaged!

Did you know Kit Kat in Japan has more than 300 different flavours? And did you know I must try them all?

There was an article I read about a guy whose dream is to eat every Kit Kat flavour. He had eaten about 100 so far, photographing each one he has tried. If you have to be remembered by this world for something, that's not a bad way to leave a legacy.

Contrary to popular belief, or what I at least expected, Kit Kat isn't easy to find - at least in the 300 flavours the Japanese county boasts to have. While I didn't have time to stop by the official Kit Kat Confectionery in Tokyo, most convenience stores didn't stock Kit Kat (and I visited many stores, but that's another blog post).

Instead, I bought three of the dozen or so flavours I found at Tokyo's Narita Airport (the other two in a Tokyo supermarket). And so, as an introduction to Japan's crazy 300 Kit Kat flavours, take a break and read the following ranking of weird chocolates that only the Japanese could produce.

Rum & Raisin Kit Kat:

Found at the airport and honoured as the flavour of Tokyo, it is a Kit Kat distinct for its fruity taste, and its alcoholic smell. This all despite having a single raisin or rum.

Unlike the other rum and raisin chocolates you can get from Kiwi brands like Whittaker's, Kit Kat's version is almost overwhelmingly sweet with the use of white chocolate.

But while some flavours you feel you only need the one or two sticks, you could almost get away with eating another set.

Weird Kit Kat Rating: 3/5Delicious Rating: 4/5

Matcha Tea Kit Kat:

I like matcha tea. I like chocolate. I like chocolate and matcha tea. But I'm not 100% a fan of the matcha tea Kit Kat. A distinct dark, earthy green, the taste is distinctly earthy too. But it's a bit confusing.

Matcha isn't sweet but eating it in Kit Kat form almost feels like it is trying to be. Maybe if it was dark chocolate instead of white, it wouldn't seem so weird.

Weird Rating: 2/5Delicious Rating: 2/5

Sweet Potato Kit Kat

When you grow up around enough processes Asian food, you learn anything purple is bound to be sweet potato flavoured.

This sweet potato Kit Kat (benuino) is extra sweet, heightened due to the mix of white chocolate used.

I don't consider it to be that distinct in sweet potato-y kumara flavour, but its quite pleasant to eat.

Weird Rating: 3/5Delicious Rating: 4/5

Cranberry & Almond Kit Kat

Found in the supermarket, it's arguably the most normal of the flavours, and the most stingy with this "collectors version" only served in single sticks.

Despite being the alternative flavour that was dark chocolate, it deviates the most from the classic Kit Kat shape, with a naked uncoated top exposing the scattering of cranberry and almond. And it is one of my favourites - think fancy higher-class Kit Kat.

Weird rating: 1/5Delicious Rating: 4/5

Wasabi Kit Kat

The most characteristic Japanese flavour you could have, in the most uncharacteristic chocolate flavours.

However, despite the wasabi label it had none of the heat - unless you breathe in a certain way through your nose and mouth, only then do you feel a slight wasabi sensation. Not necessarily the burning, but maybe that whiff of a sharpie marker-like smell. It's unusual and unnatural to have sweet with chocolate, but there's something about it that always makes me feel curious to try it again just so my brain can work out what's going on.

It's no Ferrer Rocher dream chocolate. But my boyfriend said this flavour was his favourite.

The girl.

NZ blogger in the middle of life, love, the world and all that inhabits it. A web addict for radio by day; a web addict in general by night. Writing about the world, travels, food, pop culture and lifestyle.